


This is a Thing Now

by Thelonelycoast



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, OT3, Post-Coital Cuddling, Smut, TMH tour, Threesome, Zourry - Freeform, dirty texting, zarry - Freeform, zouis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-17 11:39:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thelonelycoast/pseuds/Thelonelycoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stage gay's been a thing for a while now, but lately, it feels different, like it's building up to something.  Then one night, Zayn gets a rude text from Louis.  And it's all downhill from there...</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is a Thing Now

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, it just writes itself.

**This is a Thing Now**  

Zayn’s falling asleep against Harry’s shoulder when the text pops up on his mobile - vibrating against his thigh in the pocket of his sweats. He talked to his mum and Perrie earlier in the day and the other boys are all here, so he’s not expecting anyone to call - but occasionally, someone will get a hold of his number and blow up his phone with texts. He’s surprised to see Louis’ name on the lock screen, considering that Louis is sitting across from him in the armchair closest to the door. His hood is drawn up, the delicate, elfin features of his face soft and indistinct in the bluish glow from the television. 

Zayn types in his password and the words jump out at him like a neon sign. _Enjoy the show tonight?_

A warm blush creeps up Zayn’s neck, spreading to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. The text is only four seemingly innocuous words, but he knows what Louis is _really_ asking. He’s not asking if Zayn enjoyed the show, he’s asking if Zayn enjoyed _Harry_. 

The thing is - when they’re on stage and adrenaline is pumping through his veins and the roar of the crowd is ringing in Zayn’s ears, it feels completely natural and not weird at all to mess around with Harry that way. It’s not that Zayn _forgets_ Harry is Louis’ boyfriend in those moments - how _could_ he when Louis’ eyes narrow every time one of them so much as _breathes_ near Harry - but Zayn does sometimes forget _himself_. The inhibitions that normally keep Zayn from doing colossally stupid shit he’ll regret later fall away under the lights. It’s a rush when Harry offers Zayn a bite of his candy thong, because it feels like he’s offering Zayn something else and in front of the entire world. It feels like he wants to show Zayn off.

 _Yeah. The crowd was great,_ Zayn shakily types, not daring to lift his head to look at Louis, whose pointed glance he can feel like a heat lamp on his face. If Louis were medusa, Zayn has no doubt the whole band would be turned to stone by now.

 _I’m not asking about the crowd. I’m asking about Harry. You’d like to get on your knees for him, wouldn’t you_?

Zayn must make a sound - a startled gasp that gets strangled halfway up his windpipe - because Harry’s head lifts off his shoulder to blink blearily at him. “Everything okay?” His words are slow and slurred from exhaustion, his eyes startlingly blue in his tan face. And oh God, Zayn is definitely _not_ thinking of Harry’s eyes looking down at him while he’s on his knees, or of Harry’s hand tightening in his hair, or of Harry’s tongue darting out to wet his red, red mouth.

“Yeah. Of course. Just tired,” Zayn fakes a yawn into his sleeve. Harry gives him a peck on the cheek and settles back into place with a sleepy, contented sound like a cat. Zayn tries not to think of all the places their bodies are touching or the lingering heat of Harry’s lips on his cheek.

When Zayn finally musters up enough courage to look over at Louis, his band mate’s eyes are fixed on the television, expression inscrutable under the shadow of his hood. But his _hand_ \- Zayn realizes with a start - his hand is lazily palming his stiffening cock through his sweats. 

Louis has always been sort of _responsive_ and living in such close quarters, it’s not like Zayn hasn’t seen him with a boner before. But usually, Louis goes to great lengths to disguise it, covering it with his shirt or his hands or a microphone when it’s onstage. But this - this is _shameless_. Louis is rubbing himself with all of them in the room, where anyone could look up at any moment and see him. It’s obscene how clearly outlined Louis’ lengthening cock is down the left leg of his sweats. Zayn can make out Louis’ whole shaft and the plump bell end of his prick, where he thinks he might detect a darkening splotch of moisture. He’s not even properly hard yet and he looks _huge_. Zayn’s hands are trembling when he picks up his mobile again.

_Why...wanna watch?_

Louis glances down at his mobile, but keeps his features carefully schooled into an expression of indifference. It’s something he’s had to work at since he and Harry need to keep their relationship a secret, but Zayn knows knows Louis well enough to recognize the signs of restraint, the subtle flattening of his mouth and deliberate smoothing of his brow. With the hand not stroking his dick, Louis starts typing a response. Zayn’s heart is beating a frantic pulse at his throat, his palms growing slick with sweat. Harry’s body suddenly feels like a furnace against him. He can’t believe he just sent that text to Louis. _Louis_ , who is notoriously jealous of anyone who so much as looks sideways at Harry. Louis, who would not hesitate to hold a grudge for days at a time.

 _Would rather join in_. Zayn springs out of his seat like his arse is on fire and Harry tips over into the vacated spot, whining at the loss of his cuddling partner. “Um, I’m knackered...gonna go hit the sack,” Zayn stammers. He stretches his arms over his head in as casual a manner as possible considering he’s legit shaking, hoping against hope that no one looks down and notices his semi.

“The movie’s not over yet,” Liam pouts, glancing back at Zayn from where he’s lying on the floor, head pillowed on Niall’s lap. There’s popcorn stuck in his hair from where Niall dropped it and under any other circumstance, Zayn would be taking the piss out of him for it.

“I’ve seen it,” Zayn replies curtly. He doesn’t hear, let alone return, their chirruped chorus of good nights and he doesn’t dare look at Louis or Harry. He needs to get out of there. The room suddenly seems oppressively hot, the walls closer than they’d been only a few moments ago. Zayn’s mobile is burning a hole through his pocket, the metal white-hot against his thigh. He manages to make it back to his room without incident, though he drops his key card several times before he’s able to slot it into the lock.

Zayn’s not even sure what he’s thinking - if _anything._ He’s running on autopilot as he rushes to the bathroom, shoving his hand down his sweats like his cock’s on fire and he’s trying to put out the flames. He’s just got his hand wrapped around himself when his mobile buzzes.

 _You’re touching yourself, aren’t you_? Zayn startles and drops the phone into the sink with a clatter, his dick giving a jerk in his fist. He’s not sure if Louis is deliberately winding him up - Louis is known for pushing people, for trying to elicit a reaction - or if he’s serious. Maybe it’s his elaborate revenge for the onstage gay with Harry. But Zayn doesn’t much care at this point, not when he can feel his release at the backs of his teeth, feel tendrils of electricity snaking up his spine, urgently pulsing a morse code. Another text pops up before Zayn can reply to the first one. _It’s okay. I’m touching myself too_.

Zayn swallows hard, his pace faltering as he rapidly pulls himself to climax. The friction is painfully dry but he can’t be arsed to try and find lube in his suitcase. He keeps thinking of Louis’ hooded eyes, of the hand blatantly rubbing his dick in the low-light of the television, of the length of Harry’s body pressed against his own. Zayn’s thumb dips into the precum welling at the tip of cock and uses that to slick himself. Was Louis going to cum in front of the lot of them? Would he bite his lip to silence his cry as an incriminating wet spot bloomed over his sweats? 

_Yeah. I saw_ , he manages to type one-handed.

Zayn’s right hand is flying now, a blur over his cock, his left hand gripping the lip of the sink so hard he’s afraid he’s going to tear it off the wall. His mobile is propped up against the soap dish and he nearly loses it when he sees Louis’ next text. _The real question is - are you thinking of me or him_?

 _Do I have to choose_? Zayn key smashes and then his ab-muscles are seizing and his cum is splattering in an arch across the sink basin. 

Zayn’s legs are shaking so badly he nearly collapses, but he manages to hobble over to the toilet and sits down on the closed lid, holding his head between his knees until his breathing returns to normal. When he can stand again, he splashes some cold water on his face, studiously avoiding his reflection in the mirror as the running tap washes his cum down the drain. What just _happened_? Did he seriously just get off on the phone with _Louis_?

Zayn slips back into his sweats and crawls under his covers, feeling scummy and low and vaguely nauseous. If it’s a joke, it’s the meanest one Louis has ever played on anyone. And if it’s not - well, Zayn’s not ready to contemplate what _that_ might mean. He swallows a sleeping pill dry and he’s just about to drift off when he remembers he needs to set an alarm. When he retrieves his phone from the bathroom, there’s another text. Zayn swallows thickly before thumbing in his password.

 _Did you cum?_ Zayn’s eyes flutter shut, jaw line flexing. He’s afraid he’ll wake up tomorrow and this will all have been a dream, a torrid fantasy his addled brain conjured up after too many lonely weeks on the road. He’s not even sure he should respond, if he’ll be crossing a line he can’t uncross, but his breath is tight in his chest and he feels like he won’t be able to breathe unless he tells Louis the truth.

 _Yeah_.

 _Me too_.  _Sweet Dreams ;)_

* * *

Everything is worryingly normal between Zayn and Louis at breakfast the next morning - no trace of a blush on Louis’ cheeks or averted eyes as he asks Zayn to pass him the jam. Louis dares Niall to try and fit a whole croissant in his mouth and breakfast devolves into the usual display of bedlam until Paul breaks it up. 

Zayn hasn’t forgotten about the texts by any stretch - in fact, he catches himself thinking of them every time they have a spare moment - but it’s obvious Louis wants to move past it. It was probably just a one time thing. Louis was just horny and he thought it would be funny or entertaining to get Zayn all flustered. I mean, Louis has a _boyfriend_ , practically a _husband_ , who’s one of Zayn’s best mates. It couldn’t _possibly_ mean anything.

Right from the beginning - from the very first days of X-Factor boot camp - it was obvious to anyone with eyes that Louis had a massive crush on Harry. Louis was tripping all over himself to try to get a laugh out of Harry, to try to get his attention and keep it. He was so shameless with his advances that even the show’s producers caught on after the first week and tried to separate them. Harry sent Louis dick pics from their bathroom when Louis was sent home to Doncaster to cool off a few days. Zayn knows because he’s seen them - hell, the whole _Internet_ has seen them.

But Zayn might have - just a _little_ bit - had a crush on Louis. From the beginning, Zayn and Louis were fast mates and whenever Louis wanted to talk about Harry, it was Zayn he came to. Louis’ excitement was palpable and infectious in those first weeks and Zayn found himself wishing that Louis would look at him like that. Louis didn’t even seem to care about his dream of becoming a singer so long as he had Harry and Zayn - Zayn just wanted to be loved that way. By _Louis_.

It’s hard to think about now - because Zayn’s dating Perrie and Harry and Louis are like one person, inextricably bound, and Zayn can’t imagine the story ending any other way. Any chance Zayn might have had with Louis was gone the second Harry showed up, which is just _fine_. Zayn’s come to terms with that. But the previous night had been like a window into what might have been and suddenly those old feelings Zayn had buried down deep were rising up to the surface again like bile.

Zayn’s moody and withdrawn all day - which is nothing new - he’s always been the introvert of the group, but it’s bad enough that the others take notice. Harry tries to pay special attention to Zayn, singling him out for cuddles and hugs, which only makes Zayn feel guiltier for what happened. He should have shut it down the second Louis started texting him. They didn’t actually _do_ anything, but it could still be construed as cheating and Harry’s one of his best mates. The longer Zayn stews in his own juices, the worse he feels about the whole thing. His stomach’s folded up like origami and he can’t even keep a sip of water down all day. His only defense is to completely shut down, to numb out. 

By dinner, he’s practically catatonic. He takes a seat at a table apart from the rest of them - face buried in a book and headphones sunk over his ears to signal he doesn’t want to talk - but he’s not even listening to music - just silence - and he just keeps reading the same line over and over until tears blur his vision. He’s about to give up and slink back to his hotel room before soundcheck when Harry squeezes his shoulder and slides into the seat next to him. Zayn slips off his headphones with a sigh, ready to tell Harry he just wants to be alone. But Harry’s grinning at him like an idiot and he’s pretty much the only person Zayn has never told - _could_ never tell - to sod off. “Louis told me, Zayn.”

“Harry, I’m so sorry-” Zayn blurts out, tears immediately springing to his eyes because he honestly can’t think of anything worse than hurting Harry, who’s so good to him, who’s such a good, kind person and friend.

Harry envelopes Zayn in a crushing hug, a hand moving up to stroke his hair. He’s the only one allowed to muss Zayn’s hair up like that. Harry’s afforded special privileges the others aren’t, like an all access pass behind the walls Zayn puts up to keep the world out. He tried in the beginning, he really did, but Harry always knew how to break him down, to take him apart, with just a smile. It was unnerving. “It’s okay. Did you think I would be mad?”

“Yeah - I - I shouldn’t have done that to you. I should never have -”

“It’s okay Zayn, _really_. No worries.” Harry shrugs. “Louis and I share everything. He told me right after it happened. Were you - were you surprised?”

“Ye - yeah,” Zayn manages to stammer. He wonders if they laugh at him behind his back - laugh at how easy it is to stir him up, to bring him off.

“Well, you shouldn’t be. You’re very beautiful, Zayn,” Harry says seriously, still stroking Zayn’s hair. “We both think so.” Zayn’s stomach flutters as Harry leans down and kisses the top of his head. He feels like an idiot for thinking - even for a _second_ \- that Harry or Louis could be so spiteful as to play with his feelings that way. They love him and he loves them. And a couple of rude texts isn’t going to change that.

Harry slings an affectionate arm around Zayn’s neck. “Come on. Come sit with us.”

And just like that - Zayn is back again.

* * *

_Only_. The innuendo doesn’t stop between them - between _any_ of them, but especially between Harry and Zayn. If anything, after they acknowledged it, everything just sort of _escalates_. Sometimes, Zayn thinks Harry’s _trying_ to give him a boner on stage. And Louis just - just _sits_ there and watches them from the shadows - with a slightly glazed expression on his face. 

At one show, Harry bends down and pretends to be giving Zayn a blowjob and Zayn can’t believe his own audaciousness when he pops his hips up to meet Harry’s face. They’re totally clothed and they’re on stage, but it feels like they may as well not be. It feels different - _pointed_ somehow - not like the joking gestures between himself and Niall or even himself and Liam (and people think _they’re_ in a relationship). When Zayn looks over at Louis after - for approval, for his consent, Louis has got a knowing smirk on his lips that makes Zayn shiver all over. 

Sometimes, Zayn feels like they’re playing a game with him, batting him around like two cats with a mouse, but then he sees their slack expressions, their blown pupils, the unmistakable signs of arousal, and he thinks that sort of thing would be too hard to fake (and why _bother_ anyway?). They’re toeing a dangerous line, but Zayn can’t find it in him to care. For the first time in a long time, he feels special and loved and cared-for. Their attention is like a drug and he wants it more and more, even off-stage, even off-camera.

But it’s hot and cold with them and Zayn never knows the rules. And _he_ certainly isn’t the one making them. It’s _Louis_ who decides - who calls the shots - and Zayn (and to some extent Harry) are at his mercy.

* * *

On one of their days off in California, they rent a yacht like they did earlier on tour in Miami. The open sea is one of the few places the paps can’t follow them and they can manage a bit of privacy these days. It’s sweltering hot outside and Harry’s naked almost as soon as they leave the dock. Harry’s always been an exhibitionist, from the very beginning days of X-Factor, so they’re accustomed to it by now. They’re all intimately familiar with what Harry’s limp dick looks like in various positions - sitting, standing, squatting, stretching, lounging. Zayn even saw Harry do naked jumping jacks once - his bits slapping loudly against his stomach and thighs - so you’d think Zayn would be immune to feeling sexually aroused by the sight of Harry’s cock, but today he’s eyeing it a bit more objectively. Wondering what Harry’s dick would look like hard and leaking and up close to his face. Wondering what he tastes like...

Liam and Niall are stripped down to their pants and Louis is looking soft and comfy in a loose vest and cut-off sweat shorts when they all break out a bowl. An hour later, they’re all wonderfully relaxed and drowsy, nodding off in the late afternoon sun. Niall is the first to drift off in search of food and a few minutes later Harry raises his eyebrows at Louis and they disappear below deck. Liam wanders off when his mum calls and Zayn’s all alone once more. He contemplates calling Perrie, but he’s afraid hearing her voice and knowing how far away she is will make him feel even more alone than he already does. Or more guilty about everything that’s been going on.

When his mobile buzzes, he looks down at in surprise, his body immediately heating up when he sees Louis’ name on the screen. _Get your cute little bum down here_.

Zayn’s not sure what to expect. Given the way that things have been proceeding between them, he shouldn’t be all that surprised by this, but he’s still not sure exactly what _this_ is. Because last he checked, he has a girlfriend and Harry and Louis are in a committed relationship. Last he checked, it was just a bit of stage theatrics and some occasional naughty texting. Zayn isn’t sure if they’re just bored and looking to spice things up or if they feel sorry for him or if it’s just an extension of their love for him - a physical manifestation of their already weirdly close relationship - but he’s not sure it matters much in the long run. Not so long as they’ll have him.

Harry and Louis are sitting cross-legged facing each other on the bed when Zayn comes in. Louis has the bong resting between his legs and he’s shotgunning smoke into Harry’s open mouth. Harry’s head is tipped back, a fierce blush mantling his cheeks and throat. Their faces are glazed in a thin sheen of sweat and their movements are slow and overtly sensual, almost as if they’re moving underwater. 

Zayn freezes in the doorway, breath hitching in his throat. He’s no longer sure what he’s doing there (or what air is). It feels like he’s intruding on something profoundly private and intimate, something not for him. But then, they’re pulling apart and Louis is smiling lazily at him, like a cat that got the cream. Grinning, Harry pats the bed beside him in invitation. They’re both acting like it’s an everyday occurrence, like Harry’s not completely naked and completely boned in front of him.

Zayn sits nervously, a good distance apart from them, staring down at the floor. He’s terrified to look up, to see the lust on their faces. It’s one thing when they’re on stage - in a controlled environment - and a whole other when they’re alone together like this. There’s a threat looming in the air - like a gathering storm - that something very real could happen, _is_ happening between them. The air is heavy with smoke and electricity and the dual heat of their gazes. 

Zayn can hear the bubbling sound of someone ripping a hit from the bong and then without warning, Harry is crawling over him and their lips are mere millimeters apart. Harry cups Zayn’s cheek tenderly and breathes smoke into his open mouth in one long, slow exhale. Zayn breathes him in, letting smoke and Harry fill his chest and lungs and buzz inside his brain. Harry chases the spiral of blue smoke with his tongue in a wet, sloppy open-mouthed kiss that has Zayn whimpering into Harry’s mouth. Harry climbs up into Zayn’s lap, his now-leaking erection unabashedly seeking friction between their pressed stomachs. 

Zayn’s hands are shaking as he cards his fingers through the sweat-damp curls at the nape of Harry’s neck and tugs firmly. Harry makes a filthy noise in response that vibrates the back of Zayn’s teeth. Zayn’s vaguely aware of Louis moving about on the periphery of his vision, taking another long pull from the bong, but it’s all fuzzy background noise when the line of Harry’s body is up against his, his mouth entreating moans from Zayn’s lips.

But then Harry is pulling away from him, their mouths still connected by a glistening trail of spit when Louis moves in to take Harry’s place. He blows a harsh, unrelenting cloud of smoke into Zayn’s parted mouth, so Zayn has to struggle not to cough. Zayn doesn’t wait for Louis to make the first move, instead forcefully grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a crushing kiss. Louis’ mouth is cloyingly sweet with the taste of rum and pineapple juice, the rasp of his facial hair chafing Zayn’s cheek. Louis’ mouth is smaller than Harry’s and he doesn’t open it as wide, so their kissing is more tightly controlled, like Zayn’s trying to lick a secret out of his mouth.

Not one to be left out, Harry’s hands tug impatiently at the flies of Zayn’s swim trunks, trying to free his throbbing erection. 

“Want to see you,” Harry pants, darting his tongue out over his lips, which somehow looks even more red and obscene than usual. Zayn lifts his hips so that Harry can work off his trunks, watching him through hooded eyes as Louis trails wet, bruising kisses along his throat and chest. Louis is still wearing his grey Topman pants, but they’re hardly disguising anything, the tumescent line of his arousal plumping out the front of his briefs.

Harry’s eyes widen when Zayn’s erection springs free and Zayn feels himself blushing all over. “You’re beautiful,” Louis sighs softly. Harry wastes no time, lowering his head to lick a stripe over Zayn’s dick that has him hissing through his clenched teeth. Zayn gently smooths Harry’s curls back from his forehead so he can properly see his face, see his pink lips stretching to accommodate Zayn’s cock, his cheeks hollowed and large green eyes watering slightly.

“He looks so good with a cock in his mouth, doesn’t he?” Louis whispers roughly against the sensitive shell of Zayn’s ear, before biting down on his earlobe. Zayn shivers and draws Louis into a hungry kiss, running his hands greedily over Louis’ chest and stomach and biceps, over his still clothed arse - all the while marveling at his curves, marveling at the fact that he actually gets to _touch_ them and not just appreciate them from afar.

Louis nips at Zayn’s bottom lip as they part and Zayn whines at the loss of his mouth, but then Louis’ head is ducking down between his thighs and he’s sucking and licking everywhere Harry isn’t reaching with his mouth. They’re both so beautiful and eager, lapping up his dick like it’s the best thing they’ve ever tasted, and Zayn’s never felt so lavished with attention. It’s not long before Zayn’s thighs are trembling with the effort of holding back his orgasm.

“I’m, I’m getting close,” Zayn warns them shakily, one hand tangled in Harry’s hair and the other stroking Louis’ stag tattoo.

Harry pulls off of Zayn’s erection with a sucking pop and Louis follows shortly after, tongue tracing the cut of Zayn’s hips and dipping into Zayn’s belly-button before he retreats. Zayn instinctually pumps his hips at the empty air in his quest for release. “What - _why_ \- why did you stop?” he nearly cries. Zayn’s dick is an angry red color, his erection so hard it’s verging on painful, and he fights the urge to bring himself off. 

“Don’t want to waste it,” Harry explains, smirking. He bends over and brushes his lips feather-light over the tattoo on Zayn’s hip, the tattoo Harry gave Zayn when he first got his needle. Zayn shivers at the ghosting sensation of Harry’s lips against his skin and the soft brush of his sweat-damp curls on his stomach.

“Waste - ?” Zayn looks questioningly at Louis, who’s hopped up from the bed to retrieve something from his toiletry case. When he returns with a bottle of lube and a foil packet, Zayn’s eyes widen in understanding. He looks back and forth between the two of them, both flushed and sweaty and already looking thoroughly debauched. He’s unsure if this is what they both want, and if so, who’s going to be fucking who.

“Mmm, you want to fuck Harry?” Louis teases Zayn, palming his cock through the front of his tented briefs. Zayn’s mouth is watering at the sight of Louis touching himself. He wonders if Louis knows just how sexy he is. Harry’s erection is bouncing as he rearranges himself on the bed and Zayn’s dick is resting spit-wet and neglected on his stomach, but Zayn hasn’t even _seen_ Louis’ dick yet.

“What if -” Zayn bites down hard on his lip, scared to even suggest it. “What if I wanted to fuck _you_ instead?”

It’s not often Louis is taken by surprise. He likes to be the leader of the group, the one in control, the instigator of whatever shenanigans they get up to, but it’s clear he hadn’t planned for this. Louis exchanges a quick, loaded glance with Harry, who nods his assent, and then lets out his breath in a long, shuddering exhale. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Are you sure?” Zayn asks, because he doesn’t want to ruin whatever compromise they’ve come to, but Louis just nods and gets onto his back. 

Zayn’s hands are shaking when he slides Louis’ briefs down his furred, muscled thighs. He sucks in a breath as Louis’ erection bobs into view. Louis’ erection is like _actually_ beautiful. Until today, Zayn has never touched a dick but his own, but he thinks if they all looked like Louis’ he might start making more exceptions. He experimentally trails a finger along the length of Louis’ heated arousal and Louis’ eyes flutter shut in response. When Louis whimpers - actually fucking _whimpers_ \- Zayn whips his hand back like he’s been stung.

Harry grins, squirting a dollop of lube into Zayn’s palm. “Go on. Touch him. He _wants_ you to.” And it’s weird, but also strangely _exciting_ the way they talk about each other and what the other one wants and needs. After three years, they must know each other inside out and Zayn’s just sort of fumbling about - trying to figure out what feels good - for them, for himself. 

But Zayn figures if there’s any part of gay sex he’s got to be decent at, it _has_ to be hand-jobs, because he’s given himself enough of those in his lifetime. But it’s different doing it to someone else. The angle’s off and unlike Zayn Louis has got a foreskin and Harry has to show him how to ease it back. Zayn finally moves so he’s sitting behind Louis and Louis’ back is resting against his chest and that makes it easier - a bit more like wanking himself. Plus, his dick is wedged between Louis’ arse cheeks this way and he doesn’t mind that one bit.

Louis head lolls back onto Zayn’s shoulder, breath coming in panting mewls as Zayn strokes him. As Zayn finds his rhythm, Harry bends over and suckles on Louis’ nipples until Louis is actually shaking in Zayn’s arms. “You should do it now,” Louis says in a broken voice that sounds so unlike him, Zayn actually startles.

Harry slicks Zayn’s finger and Louis raises his thighs up to his shoulders, exposing himself to Zayn. It’s the most vulnerable Zayn has ever seen Louis and the sight of him spread out sends blood rushing to Zayn’s dick. He nervously pushes his digit into Louis, who responds with a hiss. 

“It’s so tight,” Zayn marvels. “And _hot_.” Harry smirks knowingly as he explains what to do. 

Louis grunts when Harry’s finger slides into him alongside Zayn’s. Harry ignores him, patiently teaching Zayn how to scissor their fingers, stretching Louis out. Following Harry’s instruction, Zayn adds another finger and Louis’ ass is gripping his knuckles so tight he can’t imagine how he’s going to get his cock in there. 

“Now. You just kind of hook your finger like this,” Harry calmly explains, guiding Zayn’s finger with his own. Zayn does as Harry says and brushes up against something inside of Louis that causes him to come apart completely, crying out as a dribble of precum rolls down his cock.

“Is that okay? Am I hurting you?” Zayn worries. 

Harry snorts, leaning down to press a kiss to Louis’ sweaty temple. “He likes it. Don’t you babe?”

“I swear to God, if someone doesn’t fuck me right now - I - I’ll-” Louis words dissolve into a frustrated gurgle in his throat.

“You’ll _what_?” Harry laughs.

“I don’t know. Just _please_. Zayn, I need you,” Louis begs, no hint of teasing or condescension in his tone. Harry rolls on the condom and slicks Zayn’s cock for him, guiding him towards Louis’ quivering hole. It’s tight going in, but then Harry is kissing Louis and his body relaxes slightly and Zayn’s able to slide all the way in to the hilt. He stops there, arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up. Louis and Harry are so lovely together. Zayn has always been conscious of the way they orbited around one another, the way they were intuitively aware of each other’s presence, but it’s different in bed. Their movements are so in sync - Harry naturally gravitating to wherever Louis needs him and vice versa.

Louis breaks apart from kissing Harry to look at Zayn, his pupils blown wide with lust. “You can start moving now. Please. Please start moving now.”

Zayn obliges, pulling back and then slowly sliding back in, so that Louis’ eyes roll back in his head. He speeds up his pace as he feels heat opening up in the pit of his abdomen, burning like a furnace in his gut. For his part, Harry’s being the perfect cheerleader, alternating his time and attention between Louis and Zayn, kissing and stroking and sucking where he’s needed. Sometimes, Zayn has to close his eyes because he’s afraid he’ll cum if he looks at either of them. They’re so debauched and lovely and _his_. 

“Fuck. You guys look so hot together,” Harry whines. He’s stroking his cock in fast, juddering pulls that look almost painful to Zayn, his arm a blur. 

Harry’s the first to cum, painting a stripe across Louis’ stomach. He crouches down afterwards and licks the warm puddle from Louis’ skin, taking Louis’ erection into his mouth as he does. Zayn’s fingernails dig into Louis’ thighs at the sight of Harry’s bobbing up and down on Louis and his own cock disappearing into him. 

“Come for me,” Zayn growls, slamming into Louis so hard he’ll be limping tomorrow. And Louis does - crying Zayn’s name as he unloads into Harry’s mouth. Harry keeps sucking him until Louis is so sensitive he’s sobbing. Louis clenching down on Zayn as he comes, combined with the sound of Louis saying his name in the throes of orgasm are enough to tip Zayn over the edge. He comes with a shout, pistoning his hips into Louis one last time as he fills the condom with spunk.

After, Zayn wants to collapse, done in by the weed and the heat and the exertion, but he at least has enough presence of mind to hold on to the condom as he slides out of Louis and stumbles toward the bathroom to clean up.

When he comes back, Louis is tucked into Harry’s arms, still shaking as he comes down from his high. “You were so good, darling,” Harry is whispering into his hair. Zayn has never seen this side of Louis - loud, boisterous, cheeky Louis - reduced to speaking in semi-coherent monosyllables, all small and trembling in the circle of Harry’s arms.

Once again, Zayn pauses in the doorway, afraid to intrude on their private time, which they get so little of anyway. He’s not really sure what the protocol is after fucking his best mate into the mattress while his boyfriend watches. But after a moment, Louis cracks an eye and he’s all sass and mischief again. “Will you get the bloody hell over here, Malik and cuddle us properly?”

Zayn slinks over to the bed, feeling faintly embarrassed, but relieved when they drag him down between them. He can feel their hearts beating against his chest and back, feel the faint exhales of their breath on his face and hair and he feels safe and loved and also, the most scared he’s ever been. 

“So this is a thing that happened,” he laughs anxiously into the back of Louis’ neck.

“Is that okay?” Harry asks, running his fingers lightly along the Zap tattoo on Zayn’s forearm.

“Yeah. Of course. I just -”

“Want to know if it’s a thing that’s going to happen again?” Louis finishes for him.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Zayn admits shyly, pushing his nose into Louis’ shoulderblade.

“Do you want it to?” Harry asks tentatively. 

“Of course. Just - how would that work?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?” Louis snorts rolling over to face Zayn. He strokes a thumb over Zayn’s cheekbone, gazing at him fondly. “Seriously, you need to smoke more weed, Malik. Relax a little.”

“I dunno - I heard weed is a gateway drug to threesomes,” Harry pipes up over Zayn’s shoulder. Louis reaches around Zayn to smack Harry’s ass and Harry yelps, biting down hard on Zayn’s shoulder.

“Zayn, we love you, okay?” Louis says, stroking Zayn’s side. “And whenever you’ll have us, we’re happy to have you.” 

Zayn blushes and Louis leans in and gently kisses his lips, followed by a loud smack from Harry on his chin.

“I love you guys too,” Zayn mumbles, nuzzling into Louis’ collarbone.

Just then the door opens and Niall’s blond head pokes in. “Hey, have you guys seen - ” Niall’s words die in his throat as he looks back at forth between the three of them, his brain trying to process what his eyes are seeing. “Oh, uh, this looks cozy.”

They all burst into laughter and Louis chucks a pillow in Niall’s direction. “What did I tell you about knocking before you enter a room, Horan?”

Niall goes pink. “To um, to do it?”

“Did you need something?” Harry asks, as casual as can be, in spite of the fact that they’re all naked and spooning in bed together in the middle of the day.

“Oh, uh, I wanted to borrow Zayn’s jacket, if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Zayn squeaks, before turning to hide his face in Harry’s chest.

“Right. Thanks.” Niall pauses, his hand on the doorknob, “So, is this like a thing that’s happening now?”

“Why, you want in?” Louis quips. Niall turns a previously unseen shade of red and slams the door behind him as they all dissolve into hiccuping laughter.

Yep, this is definitely a thing now.


End file.
